Echo
by Windsong
Summary: Red/Green. Green loses his voice and Red uses this to his advantage.


****Title:**** Echo  
><strong><strong>Rating:<strong>** PG  
><strong><strong>Word Count:<strong>** 905  
><strong><strong>Genre:<strong>** Romance, Humor, Fluff, Character Study  
><strong><strong>Warnings:<strong>** Unapologetic WAFF  
><strong><strong>Summary:<strong>** Red/Green. Green loses his voice and Red uses this to his advantage.  
><strong><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>** _Pokémon_ isn't mine.  
><strong><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>** Originally written 12 October 2010. For pokeprompts LJ's challenge "The Quiet World," where it won first place. It also fills my writing challenge prompt "Sickness." This started as a part of a larger collection for mochawhip, but I liked it so much that I just kept writing.

* * *

><p>Red is nudging Green awake with ice-cold fingers that skim across his sides to inch up his back. Green shakes his head and tries to burrow back under the covers, but Red doesn't stop until he's dragged Green half out of bed.<p>

Green glares up at him and starts to say something, but all that comes out is air.

Red blinks while Green's mouth opens and closes, his expression growing panicked. Finally Green clutches at his throat and Red's eyes light up with understanding.

Red leaves to make breakfast while Green rouses Eevee and gets dressed. The meal is unusually silent, and Green frowns at how bitter the tea is, but Red stares at him until he drinks it all. It's not like he can argue, anyway.

As Green tries to get the taste out of his mouth, Red thinks that he isn't as disturbed by Green's silence as he should be. He also thinks that he doesn't feel particularly guilty about it.

—

He follows Green to work and translates his frustrated gestures. "He wants you to go to storage and check if you're out of antidotes," he murmurs after Green crosses his hands and points to the back. "If you are, go to the Poké Mart and pick up thirty."

Bonita goggles at them both until Green shoves him. "Move," Red adds needlessly, and Bonita flees.

—

When they get home, Green tries to find home remedies on the internet but only finds nonsense. Red peers over his shoulder and points at a promising one: "I can ask Venusaur to give me some leech seeds, if you want," he says. Green just glares and hits the back button.

"It might work," Red insists.

Green lets out a silent long-suffering sigh and tries to shove Red out of the room. Red twists out of his hold and drags him to bed, where Green promptly forgets about trying to rest his voice.

—

The next morning, Green ignores the two leech seeds sitting beside his plate. He also refuses to drink the tea unless Red does too, so they both end up desperately nibbling toast to get their taste buds to work again. (Red can handle subzero temperatures, extreme starvation, and go three days without sleeping, but he cannot, _will not _handle certain flavors. Green uses this to his advantage when Red is being particularly frustrating. This is why Red usually cooks.)

Bonita and the others start going directly to Red for orders. "Use less weight when you train," he says before Green can begin to gesture. "You have to build up strength gradually." Green's head whips to stare at him, outraged and flabbergasted. Red spares him a glance. "Use the pink ones," he adds, since he remembers that Green's been trying to save the blue weights for Salma.

Green throws his hands in the air and stomps to his office.

"He's going to take a five minute break," Red says. "And he'll e-mail you from now on."

The door slams.

—

One of the first things Red taught Green (once they started talking again, all those years ago) was how to communicate without words. A sideways glance, a tilt of the head, the shape of a smile—everything meant something if you watched closely, if you took the time to _see_ instead of _be seen_.

Green hadn't understood until Red had shown him through hours and months of involuntary lessons, when words were swallowed by the thundering silence of the mountain. Red's fingers twitched against Green's skin; Red's head shifted in his sleep to rest on Green's shoulder. And eventually, Green understood.

Red watches now as Green stands against his opponent, every line of his body speaking confidence. Green flicks his wrist, tosses his head, and Rhyperior's Earthquake rips the dugtrio from the floor. Like Red, he's moved long past the time where he needs words—and without them, there's something raw and instinctive in the way the battle progresses, in the way Green's body mirrors his Pokémon's moves in subtle ways, the way his fingers curl against his palms as his eyes take everything in.

Green walks across the battlefield to shake the challenger's hand and accept her money. The kid says something to him and Green ruffles her hair, grinning. Eevee leaps up onto his shoulder and nuzzles his face, and he pets her before turning to Red. His eyes are still shining, and his posture is relaxed and content. Red lifts his hand in acknowledgement—says _It was expected, _without words—and Green snorts, rolling his eyes before he turns away.

—

The next morning, Red finds that Green has woken up first. He's sitting up in bed and massaging his throat when Red's hand settles on top of the hand in Green's lap. Green looks over. "Can I ta—" his voice wavers, almost breaking, but his eyes widen just the same. "Are you psychic?" is the first thing he rasps.

Red shrugs, noncommittal. "You're easy to read."

Green clears his throat and winces. "Red, I—"

"Rest your voice," Red interrupts. "I'll make breakfast."

Red starts to leave, but stops when a pillow collides with the back of his head. He turns, an eyebrow raised; Green is sitting up in bed. "I love you," he croaks as loudly as he can. "And you're a jerk."

Red makes him drink the bitter tea for one more day, just out of spite.


End file.
